


If I Wanted a Meet Cute, I Would Watch a Rom Com

by Vamillepudding



Series: Not A Meet-Cute [1]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, M/M, Protective Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 12:29:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13717710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vamillepudding/pseuds/Vamillepudding
Summary: “I'll give you 20 dollars for a blowjob.”“I'm not a fucking prostitute” Charles replied flatly, too tired to be polite.**Or: How Erik and Charles first meet. Charles isn't amused.





	If I Wanted a Meet Cute, I Would Watch a Rom Com

When Charles told people the story about how he had met his husband, he included the term 'love on first sight' and words like 'destiny'. This is not that story.  
This is what actually happened.

***

Charles was having a rather spectacularly bad day. He had gotten little more than two hours of sleep, which put his sleep average for the whole week on a steady three hours and a half.

It was February, the time of exams, which meant a lot of grading and a lack of a social life for the moment. This morning he had had to tell his sister Raven that he couldn't make it to her birthday party, which had led to a fight and ended in them not talking to each other for the moment.

Also, he had realised he was out of groceries, on a Saturday night, seven minutes before the shop closed, which was why he had abandoned everything and sprinted to the supermarket, where he arrived exactly one minute after closing time.

All of those were things he could have dealt with, if not for the strange man who walked up to him, after Charles was finished panting and coughing and pretending he wasn't totally out of shape, and said:

“I'll give you 20 dollars for a blowjob.”

In the very first moment, Charles was actually confused about whether the man was offering one, or wanted Charles to do the work. Then the meaning fully sank in, and he stared at the man.

“I'm not a fucking prostitute” he replied flatly, too tired to be polite.

The man didn't seem as embarrassed as Charles reckoned he ought to be.

“Oh. Shame. Want me to give _you_ a blowjob?”

“Excuse me.”

“You look tense.” The audacity, the _nerve_ that guy had. It would have been admirable, had Charles not felt so insulted. He pulled himself up to full height, which admittedly wasn't that impressive, and said “Oh, fuck you, mate” before walking off. All in all, it was a more dramatic exit than he was used to, but he couldn't have cared less at the moment.

And that would have been it. Had life gone a little differently, Charles and the asshole from the supermarket would have never met again, and this story would end here.

It doesn't. It only just begins.

***

Three weeks later all the papers were graded, and Charles and Raven were speaking again. They had decided to celebrate this happy occasion by going to a pub, neither of them openly acknowledging but both privately knowing that alcohol was the only way they would be able to carry on a civil conversation for more than two minutes.

Two tequila shots and two beers had already been consumed by each, and Charles was feeling more than a little tipsy when he walked up to the bar to get two more drinks. He looked around while he waited, enjoying the warm glow his intoxicated mind drew around all the other minds, a nice side effect of his telepathy.

Charles was a happy drunk, always had been, because this was the only way he could let his guard down and not get caught up in unpleasantness. Well, mostly.

He had only taken two steps with the beer bottles in hand when suddenly there was someone in his way, an unforeseen obstacle that Charles wasn't able to dodge. Some of the drink was spilled on the floor, some of it on Charles' shoes, and some on the man in front of him, who instantly got annoyed, his anger like a red haze slamming into Charles.

“Sorry about that” Charles said. The man, older and bigger than Charles, with a very creepy mustache, frowned.

“Are you kidding me? This is a new shirt.”

“I'll pay for it.” He could sober up if he wanted to, another side effect of his power. Only he didn't want to. He wanted to stay drunk, wanted to enjoy this evening with his sister and nothing to worry about.

The man meanwhile grew only more irritated.

“You wanna pay for it, you can pay for it by sucking my d-” Before he could finish that sentence, there was another presence, one that wasn't Raven but seemed somewhat familiar nonetheless, and when Charles turned around he saw Supermarket Guy. Perfect. This was just perfect.

“He said he was sorry. Leave it alone” said Supermarket Guy, gaze cool. Charles couldn't help it, he started laughing.

There was a brief confused silence between the two other man, only interrupted by the sound of Charles' laughter.

Mustache Guy eventually snapped:

“What's it to you? You his boyfriend?” This got Charles to stop, and with tears still in his eyes, he said:

“He's not my boyfriend, he's the guy who harassed me the other night. Great to see you again, by the way. How've you been? Met any actual hookers lately?” Supermarket Guy didn't look very amused. Charles probably wouldn't have been, either, if he hadn't drunken that much. Oh, whom was he kidding. He totally would have been. This was _hilarious_.

“You're drunk.”

“Well, yes, we're in a bar. God, you're unbelievable. Coming to my rescue, was that the plan? Well, I can-” he faltered, searching for the right words. “take care. Of myself. I can take care of myself.”

Supermarket Guy turned his stare on Mustache Guy, like he wanted to rip the other man's throat out, which Charles didn't approve of, because it was violent and he was against violence. He was a pacifist, and he told the two men that.

“You can leave now. There's paper towels in the bathroom, don't be a dick about this” Supermarket Guy said to Mustache Guy, and when the angry man had stormed off, he said to Charles: “Are you here alone?”

“Why? Want to, to blow me again?” Charles started laughing again. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm here with – oh.” The table where he and Raven had been sitting was empty. Huh. “She's gone. I was totally here with my sister, I swear.”

“Right” said the guy, his tone of voice suggesting that he did not believe Charles. “Well, I'll call you a cab.”

“I'm drunk, not helpless. Also I live four blocks from here, I'll – shit.”

“What?”

“I just told you where I live. You could be a serial killer. This is exactly what I tell my students not to do. Students, I say, don't give strange guys who think you're hookers your address. Some role model I am.”

“I'm not a serial killer.”

“Sure you're not” Charles said. He realised that he was still holding the bottles, half-full, and took a sip out of one of them. Supermarket Guy took both from his hands and put them on a nearby table.

“Hey!”

“I'm confiscating them. Also, I'll walk you home.”

“ _You_ ” Charles said, pointing somewhat unsteadily at Supermarket Guy, “are _not_ walking me home. Find someone else to creep out. I'll find out where my sister is, and then I'm leaving. Alone.” To emphasise this point, he left the bar and took out his phone, only to notice that he had been followed. “Dude.”

Raven had sent him a message, it turned out, informing him that she had run into a friend and invited him to her place. Well, that settled that problem.

“Alright, that's it. I would pretend it was nice seeing you again, but it wasn't. Please don't follow me anymore, or I'll call the police, and believe me that I'm being serious about this. Your concern is sort of touching, once you overlook the fact that you wanted to suck me off at the supermarket the other night, but I do live close by, I'm really not that drunk, and I don't know you. So, yeah. Bye.”

“Wait!” Charles hadn't been lying, he would have called the police, but Supermarket Guy only held out a pen. Charles looked at him warily.

“Give me your arm. I'll write down my number, in case something happens.”

“In case something happens. On that 10-minute-walk. Right. Fine, whatever. Here.” It didn't take long for the guy to finish writing, and when he was done, Charles gave him a mocking salute.

“Thank you. I'll call if I get mugged. In the – what was it – oh yes. In the 10 minutes it takes to walk. Did I mention that it's really only four blocks?”

“Humour me”, said Supermarket Guy. “Good night.”

 

It took 12 minutes because Charles walked slowly, savouring the quiet only the night brought to the city.

When he was lying in bed some time later, he thought about texting Supermarket Guy that he had arrived savely. He fell asleep before he could make a decision. The next morning he woke up to find that the black ink had been smudged over night, rendering the writing unreadable. The only thing he could make out was the name.

Erik.

***

Charles didn't see Erik again until summer had already begun. New York was a big city, and sometimes he didn't even see his own sister for months on end, so this didn't come as a surprise, and in fact Charles had almost crossed the other man from his mind entirely by the time they ran into each other once more.

It was, surprisingly, at a Mutant-Pride-Event. Charles tended to stay away from those, firmly believing that most people went there to either start a fight or hook up with someone, and he had never had a taste for the former and was not currently desperate enough for the latter. This time though he had been asked to give a speech by one of his students, and how could he have refused such a hopeful request?

So here he was, standing in the back and taking in everyone, so many wonderful people, so much talent, such beauty, when Emma Frost was suddenly next to him.

“I didn't expect to see you here.”

“Likewise” he responded, waiting for her to probe his mind, as she always did when they met. Today was no exception, and just as all those other times, she didn't get past his defences. Charles smiled pleasantly at her. “It's been ages, hasn't it?”

“It has” Emma said sweetly. “Still teaching at the university?”

“Yes I am. How about you, still writing articles about how I should be demoted?”

“Yes I am. Tell me you're not part of the entertainment programme tonight.”

“Terribly sorry to disappoint, but I'm afraid you'll be listening to a speech from me.” The mental attack grew stronger, but Charles' mental walls held. Finally, she gave up.

“I'll have my pen ready. Try to make a mistake, give these people something to get upset about, will you?”

“When don't I? - Oh no, what's _he_ doing here?” Emma followed his gaze to the man walking in their direction.

“Him? That's Erik. He's a friend of mine.”

“I have to go” Charles announced, and slipped away lest Erik spot him.

He didn't remember a lot from that night back in early March, but certain things were still very present: Erik coming to a misguided rescue-attempt, Charles accusing him of being a serial killer, Erik about to follow Charles home and Charles about to call the cops. He also remembered waking up with Erik's number on his arm, and how it had taken plenty of hot water and soap to wash it off.

Erik, Charles was convinced, was most likely an alright guy who simply gave off creepy and possessive vibes. But acknowledging that and wanting to make conversation with him now were two very different things indeed.

He had now arrived at the stage, with still a couple of minutes to spare before his speech. He looked up just in time to see Erik coming towards him, Emma hurrying after him. Oh well. Now was as good a time to start as any.

 

He had thought a long time about what to say to these people. Most of them would know who he was. Charles had been politically active in his college years, but that had stopped since...It had stopped.

Even though this was almost a decade ago, what with him turning 29 soon, they still knew him, if not personally, then of him. He still gave interviews occasionally, and his lectures in university were also rather notorious. Charles Xavier was, involuntarily, a somewhat public figure in the mutant community.

So he had thought about what this speech should contain, what he should aim for. How should he try to shape these young minds, if at all? Which direction to stir them towards? He knew his own view on these things, but did that mean he had a right to imprint it onto others? No, it didn't. And so he walked up that stage, made sure that the microphone was on, waited until all eyes were on him, and he said this:

“I was asked to speak here today, no doubt so that I could tell you that we as a community have to stand strong together, and that we have to respect our fellow non-mutant citizen regardless.”

A pause.

“I can't tell you that. The truth is, our community is divided. There is not just one rift, but multiple ones, and we're further drifting apart with each event such as this one. So if you were hoping to agree or disagree with me tonight on my rather public opinions about mutant politics, I shall have to disappoint you. This speech is the last one I will ever give on this subject. If you want to know about the so-called X-gene, I invite you to read my papers or come listen to my lectures at the Columbia University. If you want to know my personal opinions, I advise you to read old interviews, because I've said it all before. I am now officially dropping out of politics. I will still vote, but I will no longer try and change the way the world works. I leave that to all of you. Thank you for listening.”

This, Charles thought as chaos broke out, was presumably not what his student had had in mind, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

***

They say all good things come in threes. But it was in fact the fourth time Charles saw Erik that would change everything.

It was still summer. The sun had gone down hours ago, but it was still incredibly hot, so Charles had gladly jumped on the opportunity to go to a pool party with his friend Moira. Only Moira had disappeared within minutes of their arrival, so now Charles stood alone.

He knew he could meet people if he wanted to. He was good with people. Tonight, though, he felt content just looking wistfully at the life going on around him, the earth spinning without his involvement for just one night.

“You look like you need a drink.” Erik's voice next to him broke the silence, and a beer was put into his hands. Charles looked at it suspiciously.

“What, do you not mind anymore when I'm drunk?”

“I never did. I just wanted to you to stay safe.” He was too tired to turn this into an argument, so he just shrugged and accepted it.

“So, no politics for you anymore?” 

“Nope” said Charles. That's right, Erik was there for his speech, wasn't he? The speech that even now, a month later, is quoted in newspapers. A right mess he got himself into. “If you're gonna berate me for that, you can fuck right off, Erik.” 

“I wasn't going to – you know my name.” What an incredibly odd thing to focus on, but Charles decided to roll with it.

“Yes. You wrote it on my arm.”

“I thought- you never called.”

“Didn't get mugged, did I?” Charles replied airily. The beer Erik gave him wasn't his first, and he was beginning to feel the effects, meaning: He felt brave, daring, even a bit flirtatious. He gave Erik a long look. “Could've called you anyway, of course.”

“Yes. But you didn't.”

“No. I didn't.”

“Why not?” It must be the fact that Erik sounded honestly curious, like he couldn't think of a single good reason for Charles not to call him, and despite – or perhaps because of – the pure cockiness of it, Charles found himself intrigued.

“Because you confused me with a prostitute the first night we met, and because you thought I was some damsel in distress the second night. Not exactly glowing recommendations, wouldn't you say?”

“I didn't think you were a damsel in distress. I knew you probably didn't need saving.”

“So why did you step in?” Where was Moira, anyway? She was supposed to be with Charles, not just abandon him. Charles reached out, very briefly, very subtly, and found her in one of the upstairs bedrooms. He immediately withdrew and vowed not to bother her for the rest of the night.

“Because I figured you could use someone on your side anyway. Just because you can take care of yourself doesn't mean you should have to.”

“That's your excuse?”

“I didn't think I needed one.”

“Figures.” As always, Charles could tell when someone became irritated with him, so he knew Erik was reaching that stage slowly, but steadily. Sometimes he wondered what his people skills would have been like, had he been born without the telepathy.

Erik took a deep breath and let it out again.

“Listen. I'm sorry for thinking you were a hooker. And I'm sorry for apparently behaving like a creep-slash-serial killer when I offered to walk you home.”

“Apology accepted.”

“I'm not sorry for stepping in and calling that guy in the bar a dick though.” Charles considered this, briefly, and then downed the rest of his beer.

“Fair enough.” Six months had passed since that evening at the supermarket, five months since the bar. It took all but a split second for Charles to make a decision. He held out his arm. Erik looked at it, silent.

“Well, aren't you gonna give me your number? I promise not to wash it off this time. At least not immediately. I'll probably wash it off eventually. I promise not to wash it off before a reasonable amount of time has passed, how's that? Like until the next shower.” Erik had already gotten out a pen, but he had not yet made skin-to-skin-contact.

“How about you just promise to call me before taking that shower?”

“I don't think I can promise _that –_ I could still change my mind, you know.” The pen grazed his skin now. It tickled, but only a little bit.

“Are you going to?”

“I don't know” Charles said slowly, and grinned. “How lucky are you feeling?”  


He went home a few hours later, in a cab this time since the party was in a different neighbourhood than his own. He got into the shower as soon as he got there, but made sure to copy down the number scrawled on his arm first. The morning after, he called Erik.

***

It had not been love on first sight, and the destiny-bit was debatable, too. Still, though. Charles reckoned their answer to the obligatory “so how did you guys first meet?”-question was pretty solid, anyway, if only for the looks on people's faces when Erik told the truth.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I would love some feedback ! Also, I'm thinking about maybe making this part of a bigger series, what do you guys think?


End file.
